Music of My Soul
by LadyDivine91
Summary: Blaine doesn't necessarily object to the idea of finding his soulmate, but if his soulmate tattoo is any indication, things might get ... complicated. And part of him doesn't want to take that chance. Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.


_**Notes:**_

 _ **This is a re-write for the Klaine Valentine's Challenge prompt 'Real Love', and inspired by the soulmate au from the tumblr post post/94395639239/au-where-you-have-a-stripe-of-your-soulmates**_

"Come on, B!" Sebastian needles, smirking as Blaine hurries away, following behind with Jeff, Nick, David, and Trent on his heels. "Show us the tattoo."

"No," Blaine grumbles, lifting his gear bag strap higher onto his shoulder and making a beeline for the bathroom.

"Why not?" Trent asks, running to keep up with the group.

"First of all, I don't have to," Blaine says. "Second of all, it's rude of you jerkholes to ask. Third of all, just no."

"But you're the only one who's never shown off theirs," Jeff points out.

"Yeah, and it's going to stay that way." Blaine storms into the bathroom and immediately locks the door behind him.

"Dude!" David yells, slamming on the door. "This is a _public_ bathroom."

"Yeah," Nick calls through the crack in the door jamb. "We have to use it, too!"

"Too bad!" Blaine kicks the door hard. "Go find another one!"

"Fuck, man," he hears Jeff say as the boys abandon the bathroom door and head for another bathroom somewhere on campus. "I really have to take a wazz."

"You really have to jack-off, you mean," David teases. Blaine hears a slap and David yell, "Ow!" but David laughs, and the other boys laugh with him.

Blaine throws down his gear bag and groans.

Stupid soulmate tattoo.

That's what this is about. That's what it's _always_ about. Now his friends are going to a different bathroom to change into their lacrosse gear and joke around and shoot the shit.

And Blaine, as always, gets left alone.

Blaine _hates_ his soulmate tattoo. Most people develop a small mark on their wrist or their hip, something that indicates their soulmate's passions or pursuits in life, usually in a spot that's easy to conceal. Jeff's soulmate tattoo is a pair of jazz dance shoes on the inner bend of his elbow – discreet, relatively out of the way, easy to hide, and, if Blaine has to admit it, somewhat cool. Jeff found out last year that that tattoo belonged to Nick, on the first day Nick transferred to Dalton to start his sophomore year. The tattoo Nick has, on the back of his neck, is a bass guitar – Jeff's first love.

Also kind of cool.

They were introduced, they shook hands, and bang. They knew. There's apparently something about the touch of the hands that seals the deal.

Because of that, Blaine often avoids shaking hands with anyone.

Sebastian, who hasn't met his soulmate yet, has a tattoo of a Rolls Royce Wraith on his flank.

He's _beyond_ thrilled.

Blaine always thought that pairing up soulmates by the things they loved the most was an interesting way for nature to sort this out – until he turned thirteen and started to develop his own soulmate tattoo.

A piece of sheet music for the song _I'm The Greatest Star_.

That's not the bad part. Blaine has spent most of his life performing in show choirs, so he _does_ have an appreciation for musicals, even if he's more of a Top 40s guys. The bad part is it takes up his _entire_ back. And from what he can see, it's growing. It used to go from his shoulder blades to right above his hips. Now it's started to creep down to his butt. Blaine wonders how far it's going to go. Will it branch down both legs until it reaches his ankles? Invade the soles of his feet, then continue up the front?

His doctor tried to put a positive spin on it, said it might mean that his soulmate, whoever it is, could be destined for great things, and that could mean they'll have an incredible life together.

Blaine agreed for the man's sake, but quietly came to terms with the fact that he didn't know any more than Blaine did.

Blaine doesn't object to the idea of soulmates, just to having one whose life's pursuits can be summed up by a show tune sung by Barbra Streisand … because what if he ends up with a woman? It's been known to happen, for people who identify sexually one way to end up with a soulmate that doesn't fit their preferred parameters. It's rare, but it happens.

It would suck if that happened to him.

Sometimes he has dreams of his soulmate licking over the notes, humming the tune as they kiss down his back, and those are kind of hot, but otherwise his tattoo is a huge bummer. He never takes his shirt off anymore – not at the pool or the lake. He got a special note from his dermatologist excusing him indefinitely from being a skin during gym class. After lacrosse practice, he can't shower in the locker room with the rest of the team.

He might as well have Elephant Man's disease. He feels like a total freak.

Blaine starts to change into his lacrosse uniform, lost in the world of his own self-pity, not paying attention to anything beyond folding up his blazer and rolling up his tie, then shedding his button-down shirt and his tee. He doesn't hear one of the stall doors creak open, or the soft gasp that comes from the boy who steps out and catches Blaine undressing. Blaine starts unbuttoning his slacks when the boy clears his throat.

"Excuse me."

Blaine stops. He looks up and sees the boy standing there, shocked and slightly agog, blushing a deep pink high on his cheeks.

"Uh, hi," Blaine says, buttoning his slacks back up.

"Hi. Did you … lock the door?" the boy asks with a wary look in his blue eyes.

"Yeah. Sorry. My friends kind of chased me in here. I didn't know anyone else was here."

The boy nods. "Do you go to school here? I'm here for a choir competition, and I'm trying to find the auditorium."

"No," Blaine says. "I'm here for a scrimmage."

"Oh," the boy says. "I didn't know there was one."

"Yeah, well … there is."

"Oh."

The boy nods again. Blaine nods. Nope. This isn't too awkward. Blaine is essentially holding this poor boy hostage and he can't even manage a conversation with him. Blaine might be able to come up with something else if it weren't for the fact that this boy, waiting politely for Blaine to unlock the bathroom door and set him free, has to be one of the most handsome Blaine has ever seen in his life. Blaine usually makes it a point not to dwell on boys he's attracted to. It's a Russian Roulette of sorts, never knowing if they're gay, not to mention if they might be his soulmate. Negotiating the first part is scary enough without having to contend with the second. As Blaine watches, waiting to see what the boy will do next, his eyes become bigger and he rushes forward, smiling bright.

"Oh my _God_!" He reaches out a hand Blaine's way. "I _love_ that song!"

Blaine knows right away what the boy is talking about. He looks over his shoulder, self-consciousness crowding his chest. He's been standing in front of a mirror, and the boy caught a glimpse of his tattoo in the reflection.

"R-really?" Blaine takes a step to the side to conceal the tattoo, his stomach going cold with embarrassment just thinking of this boy looking at it.

But the boy, too fascinated by what he's seen so far, walks behind Blaine to get a better look at it. "Yeah! And … oh my _God_! It's written in _my_ key!"

Like the flick of a switch, the cold in Blaine's stomach turns into an all-encompassing, boiling heat.

"Are you … are you sure?" Blaine asks, hoping against hope that this beautiful boy may actually belong to him.

"Yes!" the boy answers, looking at the notes, his breath ghosting over them as he hums the tune, making Blaine's toes curl. "You're _so_ lucky! My soulmate tattoo is some weird stick." The boy walks back in front of Blaine, probably remembering it's rude to stare at someone else's soulmate tattoo without permission. "It takes up most of my inner arm." The boy looks forlornly at his right arm, his soulmate tattoo hidden beneath a blue sleeve buttoned tight at the wrist. "I can't tell if it's some kind of sports thing, or if it's made for picking apples. It's got a kind of basket on the end."

"It's a lacrosse stick," Blaine says, a smile spreading his lips with the certainty of it.

"Really?" The boy undoes his cuff and rolls up his sleeve, amazed that Blaine would know without seeing it. Not until his sleeve is rolled up to his elbow does it hit him, and his fingers shake. "How … how do you know?"

"My name is Blaine," Blaine says, the next few words flying off his tongue as if he's waited a lifetime to say them, "and I think I'm your soulmate."

"My … my name is Kurt," the boy answers, looking from the stick tattoo on his arm to the boy, sliding back in front of the mirror to put his tattoo on display. "Are you … are you sure?"

"There's only one way to find out." Blaine reaches out quickly and takes Kurt's hand, the telltale tingling of two soulmates touching growing in the center of their joined palms and surging up their arms. It may seem sudden, but it has to be done. They're destined to be, and now that they've found one another, it can't be put off or ignored. Unpleasant things happen to people who shirk their soulmate. Horrible illnesses sometimes. Even death.

Kurt yelps, his first instinct to pull his hand out of Blaine's grasp, but Blaine doesn't let go. It takes only a second for their hands to feel comfortable with that sting, as if they've been waiting for one another.

As if they were meant to hold each other.

"Yeah," Blaine says with a giddy laugh while Kurt stares at their joined hands in awe. "Pretty sure."


End file.
